Witness
by RegalGirl94
Summary: Mara Burke was cursed. Watching people avert tragedy, only to attract different tragedy and die in front of her. She can only pick up and move on, and hope she can figure out her abilities to see death enough so that she can save someone she loves.
1. Chapter 1: Mara Burke

**Had this sitting on my computer. Enough of it is written that I feel fine posting it now. Hope you enjoy!**

I never truly understood why I was so odd growing up. Why I would get these feelings before something horrible happened. They didn't really hit me until middle school. One day, walking home from school, I could hear this metal creaking sound, like the chains from the swings swinging. I could also hear choking sounds. But when I looked, there was no one on the swings in the first place. I told my parents, but they just said my brain filled in the silence from a deserted park. But I couldn't help but notice this odd look on my mom's face when I told her.

By the time I got off school the next day, it was all over the news that a toddler got tangled up in the swing's chains and was strangled to death. As tragic as it was, I was always more consumed with how that poor boy's death must have sounded exactly like what I heard.

I would kind of get a foreboding feeling here and there, but nothing like that little boy for a long time. The funny things was, when I got one of the most important ones in my life, I had no idea until it was too late.

My parents had left early that morning. They were rushing off to meet my mother's ill Aunt, who wasn't doing too well. Other than my Uncle Tommy in White Plains, Aunt Miriam was the only family we really had nearby. Luckily, school was walking distance. I was just making myself some toaster waffles for breakfast and turned on the TV. My dad must've watched the news late that night, because it was still on Channel 11.

"Authorities are now calling the North Bay bridge collapse a freak act of nature. Citing a highway improvement project that may have weakened the super structure." My mouth dropped to the floor when I saw the rubble of the North Bay bridge where it had crumbled into the water. "There has yet to be any reports on any survivors."

I was about to call my parents, to see if they needed help finding another way since the bridge was on their route. But it was then I noticed something on the lower thirds that struck me as odd. It said the eleven o'clock news on Channel 11. But when I checked the clocks in the house, they all said that it was still 7:30. It was only then I got that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I carried on calling my dad, but his phone went to voicemail. I called my mom, and hers did too. I called their car phone – because they had one for work, and it went to voicemail as well. I even called their work, just in case they went to work for something before getting on the road. But both buildings said that they never came in.

I kept on calling and calling, leaving voicemail after voicemail. But I never reached them. I didn't bother going to school. I knew what was going to happen. And then there was breaking news at eight about the North Bay bridge collapse. I could barely see the same images I saw before through my tears. It was then the house phone rang, and I knew it was my school. Someone from the administration's office was calling to see why I wasn't at school. When I told them what happened, she reassured me that I didn't need to do anything. She would call my Uncle for me, and then he would take care of what needed taking care of. Within twenty minutes, I got a call from Uncle Tommy. He said he was already on his way, that he couldn't get a hold of my parents either. But I knew we would never be hearing from them again.

Uncle Tommy being a cop seemed to help the situation. He could get a hold of the authorities at the site and confirm that my parents' car was seen getting on the bridge just before it collapsed. I scoured the news for the real eleven o'clock news story. The one I saw before the bridge collapse. But while Channel 11 was still reporting, all the reports were vague and had no real answers or anything definitive. When Uncle Tommy had a break in calling and informing the people he needed to, he came to my room to see how I was doing. I couldn't tell him anything reassuring.

"I'm not ready for this, Tommy. I'm supposed to be finishing up my first year of High School. I'm not supposed to be attending some memorial service for my parents."

"I know," he said softly, remaining straight faced. I knew he was grieving too. It was his big brother that died. My mom was like a sister to him too. Aunt Miriam would die in a matter of weeks. We were all the other had in the way of family. "Don't worry, I took care of the arrangements. All you have to do is show up."

"And then what?" I asked him, scared. "What happens next?"

"You're coming to live with me," he assured me. "I'll take care of you."

"Thank you, Uncle Tommy," I whispered.

The morning of the memorial service, I got dressed in the only black thing I owned. A black dress with white flowers all over it. It still didn't feel appropriate. One of my mom's coworkers came over to do my hair for me but left my face alone. Any makeup I would have worn would have been washed away by the inevitable tears. I sighed when left to my own devices before we were to leave and let myself be distracted by the news.

"Authorities are now calling the North Bay bridge collapse a freak act of nature. Citing a highway improvement project that may have weakened the super structure. Among the survivors were 8 employees of Presage Paper on their way to a business retreat. The other 17 employees were killed in the collapse. And although they've been branded the lucky 8, the surviving 8 employees now face an uncertain future."

And that time, my mouth dropped for a different reason. "There weren't supposed to be any survivors," I whispered to myself.

"What did you say?" my Uncle called from the other room.

"Um… there were survivors," I called back to him. But my mind wouldn't let it go.

* * *

It was a sea of black for the memorial. I didn't know how Uncle Tommy got it together. It didn't matter. He had picked some photos out from our house to set up at the burial site. I saw that people from their office's had brought photos and flowers as well. During the set up, I could see across the cemetery that there was a memorial plaque and service for the employees of Presage Paper that didn't make it off the bridge. Just off the scene by the street, I saw a lone man in all black with dark skin standing alone. At first, he was watching the service for Presage Paper. But as if he felt my eyes on him, he turned to lock eyes with me. Startled, I let out a gasp and turned away.

I didn't pay attention to what was said. Tommy got up to speak on my behalf for my parents. Some of their coworkers did too. But it all washed over me anyway until it was over, and Uncle Tommy started to lead me away. But we were intercepted by so many people who knew my parents wanting to extend their condolences. I ended up getting separated from my Uncle and bumping into a grown man. I fell, my knees under my black dress getting dirtied by the grass below.

"Oh, sorry. Here, let me help you up." A couple pairs of arms helped to my feet and then a dizzy spell washed over me. "You okay?"

I looked up to see two men, one tall and pale, the other slightly shorter and tanner. I vaguely recognized them from the news. "Yeah… it's just been a rough couple of days. Excuse me… but you were part of the survivors, weren't you? From that business retreat."

They exchanged an awkward look and slowly nodded. The nicer looking, pale one nodded, "Yeah, we were. Did you know someone who…"

I nodded, "Um, my parents. We're having their service over there."

"I'm so sorry," he told me. "What was your name?"

"Mara, Mara Burke," I told them blankly.

"I'm Sam Lawton," he introduced himself. Then he pointed to the other man, "This is Peter Friedkin."

"It's nice to meet you," I told them with a weak smile. "And I really do mean that. I know it doesn't make much sense, but I was really glad to hear that there were some survivors." Even as I said these words, they felt hollow. Because staring at these men, I felt like somehow, they hadn't really survived.

Sam slowly nodded along to my words but seemed concerned. "Um, are you here with someone? Can we help you find them?"

"Mara!" I heard my name being called and turned to see Uncle Tommy making his way towards me in the crowd.

"That's my Uncle there," I assured them. "But thanks. Goodbye Sam. Goodbye Peter."

"Bye Mara," Sam said softly as he and Peter left.

"Hey, there you are," Uncle Tommy said as he reached her. "Are you ready to get home?"

"I'm ready to pack," I told him, taking his arm and following him through the crowd to where he'd parked the car. But then a new wave of dizziness hit me, and I had to stop walking, leaning heavily into Tommy as I did. His words, asking me if I was okay, felt like he was speaking to me at the bottom of the pool. I saw flashes of images behind my eyes when I closed them. Sam getting onto a plane. The number 180. An explosion in the sky.

"Mara!" Uncle Tommy's voice brought me back to reality. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Where'd he go?" I asked, peering through the haze of people, looking for Sam.

"Who?" he asked me.

"The man I was talking to," I told him. "Sam – he was on the bridge. He's gonna die."

"What? What are you talking about?" I didn't answer. I just kept looking for Sam and Peter, trying to break out of Tommy's arms to find them. I had to warn Sam that he wasn't safe. But I couldn't get through the throng of people and Tommy was still holding me. The images flashed before my eyes again. Everything felt distant.

"What's wrong?"

"I think she's having a panic attack or something."

"Help me get her to the car." And then everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in an Urgent Care room with a doctor and my Uncle Tommy who explained that I had a panic attack and passed out, but I would be fine. The doctor said it wasn't uncommon for someone suffering such a tragic loss as I had, to have panic attacks, and gave me a rescue inhaler just in case, along with a pamphlet for me and my uncle on how to deal with them if they happen again. When I was cleared to leave, Uncle Tommy checked me out and took me home. He arranged for his partner at work, Frank, to come meet us and help us with packing. He also arranged for my mom's best friend and coworker, Daisy, to finish any packing we couldn't get done quickly for things I didn't personally need. Then she'd help me sell affects I didn't want to keep or put the others in a storage unit she had.

I didn't tell Uncle Tommy about the things I saw when I had the panic attack. I knew that he wouldn't believe me. Honestly, I didn't believe myself. What if I had imagined that I saw that news report before the bridge collapsed; just in my grief? What if I concocted some fantastical airplane explosion to distract myself from the tragedy that stole my parents? It was possible.

I distracted myself from it all with the packing and unpacking at Uncle Tommy's bachelor pad. It was small, but big enough for the two of us. There was a guest bedroom that was now mine to use. Uncle Tommy mused finding a bigger place so I could be more comfortable, but I promised him that it didn't matter. I just wanted to be with the only family I had left.

Frank was around all the time before they started a shift or after they finished one. He really was another Uncle for me. He and Tommy helped me settle into my new room and prepare to finish off Freshman year at a new school. It was barely over a couple weeks later, May 14, 2000, when I saw my nightmare play out on the television.

When I woke up that Sunday morning, I walked into the living room to see Uncle Tommy on the couch, watching the news. When he saw me, he quickly muted the TV. But I had still seen the images. Wreckage of a plane was floating in the water – seat cushions, luggage, loose items. All being sifted through by crewmen on ships. I read the lower third.

FLIGHT 108 DISASTER

"What happened?" I asked, quietly.

Uncle Tommy heaved a sigh and explained, "A plane headed to Paris exploded after takeoff. They're not releasing any names of those on board until they're finished notifying all next of kin."

I sank onto the couch next to him. "I think I know who died on that plane."

"What?" he asked me.

I was going to tell him everything. I was. But I knew how it would sound. I would sound crazy. "Um, nothing. I guess I just… didn't expect to see another tragic news story so soon."

He let out a long sigh and put his arm around my shoulder. "I know. It's awful."

I sighed too, putting my head on his shoulder, "I miss them."

"Me too," he said quietly.

* * *

I kept my eye on all the news having to do with Flight 180, while doing more research into the Lucky Eight. It didn't surprise me to learn that they had all died in some freak accident. I'm sure if I met any of the others outside of Sam and Peter, I would have known. It was a few weeks later that the full list of who had died on the plane and the group that had gotten off the plane just before the accident was release. I wasn't surprised to see Sam and Molly's pictures on the screen. I wasn't all that surprised to find out that the last survivor, a man named Nathan, had been killed by falling debris from the plane. But it just seemed to confirm my oddity. And I had to tell my Uncle. I couldn't deal with this alone anymore. Even if he thought I was crazy.

The next moment I knew I had time to talk to him, I quickly got his attention by beginning with, "Uncle Tommy, we have to talk about North Bay and Flight 180."

Uncle Tommy gave me a confused look. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, "Um, remember at the memorial – I had a panic attack?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, probably wondering why I was bringing that up now.

"I had just met one of the survivors of the bridge collapse. He and a bunch of his friends and coworkers got off the bridge just before it fell," I explained.

"The Lucky Eight, I remember," he followed along.

"Sam Lawton, I bumped into him at the service," I told him. "He was nice – but gave me a weird feeling. The same kind of feeling I had the morning the bridge collapsed. And when we were leaving, I started seeing these visions – Sam, the number 180, and a plane exploding."

He stared at me for a bit. I could tell that he was trying to make sense of what I was saying.

"So…" I sighed. "So, I saw that. And now this plane, called Flight 180, has exploded. I can't explain how I knew… but I just knew that Sam was on that flight. And I found out that the Lucky 8 weren't so lucky after North Bay bridge."

I could tell Uncle Tommy didn't believe me. But he wanted to. And he didn't want to hurt my feelings by calling me crazy or something. "Mara… you're not psychic or something. No one can see the future."

"That's not what I'm saying," I told him. "I'm not seeing lottery numbers or world series scores. I'm just seeing death."

"No, Mara, you're grieving," he insisted. "You couldn't have known about the bridge or the plane before they happened."

"I thought the grief was making me crazy too," I admitted. "I thought I convinced myself that I saw the news story about the bridge before it happened when I'd actually seen it when it originally broadcasted. As a way of blaming myself for not being able to prevent mom and dad dying. I thought my head was just spinning with a bunch of different tragic scenarios someone could die in horribly. And—and maybe I injected Sam into them after I met him because he and his friends survived, when mom and dad didn't!"

"All valid assumptions, and I'm sure, completely normal," Uncle Tommy assured him. "Look…"

"No," I cut him off. "I was right the first time. I saw the bridge collapse before it happened. I double checked my phone. I called mom and dad like forty times in half an hour before the bridge actually collapsed. Because I knew it was going to happen. And then at the service, I met Sam and his friend Peter. We were talking, I got this feeling like they weren't safe. And then as you and I were leaving, I started getting dizzy and I saw things. The explosion, the plane. Flight 180. I knew Sam was going to die on that flight." To punctuate my explanation, I gestured to the running news story about the crash on the television.

"Mara, what you're telling me is impossible," he said slowly.

"No, it's improbable," I corrected. "I know what I saw. I know it was before either the bridge or the plane happened. I also know that Sam Lawton pulled his girlfriend off their work bus. His friends followed. And they all escaped just as the bridge collapsed. It was like Sam knew that it would happen before it did and saved their lives. Now they're dead. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

He gave me a look, "Really? You're using Star Trek against me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sherlock Holmes." "Mara, I want to believe you, I do," he sighed. I knew he meant it.

"I understand that you can't yet," I told him. "I didn't understand what was happening before either. But there have been too many coincidences now. I knew when Aunt Miriam was gonna take a turn for the worse, I foretold a little kid's accidental death on the swing set the day before it happened, and I knew about North Bay and Flight 180. And I saw on the news yesterday that a kid on that flight had a panic attack – just like me – and told everyone that the plane was gonna blow up. It started a big scuffle that got him and six others off the flight before it took off and exploded just as he said it would. What if he's like me?"

"Even if all you're saying is true somehow," he said, his voice picking up a bit, as if he was starting to believe me given how certain I was. "What exactly do you wanna do about it? Are there any more predictions?"

I shrugged, "Not yet. There's a memorial service tomorrow for the students who died on the flight. I wanna go. I wanna see if I get any of the same feelings. If I do, maybe I can warn them. Maybe I can actually stop someone from dying."

"Mara, that's a lot of responsibility to take on yourself," my Uncle said. "You can't be blaming yourself for the bridge or the plane…"

"If either mom or dad had answered their phones that morning, maybe they'd still be here," I cut in, throat feeling tight. "Maybe if I'd found Sam and told him what I saw, he and his girlfriend wouldn't have gotten on that plane. Maybe if I can see something useful tomorrow, and tell the person, they'll live."

"And maybe they survived the plane crash just to get hit by a car tomorrow," he pointed out. "You can't just cheat death. Even if, somehow, you've gotten a sneak peek."

"What if I saw your death?" I asked him. "Wouldn't you want me to warn you?"

He was quiet for only a moment. "I wouldn't want you to have to deal with that on your own. But I also wouldn't want you to blame yourself for stuff out of your control. No one gets to choose when our number's up."

"What if I could?" I asked. "What if I get to see these things and know these things so I can save people from dying young and horribly?"

He didn't seem to know what to say anymore. I could tell that he didn't believe me, but he was in pain for me. He sighed as he stood from the couch. "We'll go to the memorial, okay? But you need to get some rest tonight."

I whispered, "Okay, Uncle Tommy," as he kissed my head and went upstairs himself.


	2. Chapter 2: Introduction to Death

CHAPTER TWO

INTRODUCTION TO DEATH

"Thirty-nine days have passed since we've lost our thirty-nine loved ones, friends, and teachers. As each day passes without a determining cause for the accident, we ask ourselves, "Why?""

I hovered in the back with Uncle Tommy standing next to me. I came prepared with a rose in hand, seeing that a lot of others had flowers to drop at the memorial statue still covered with a tarp.

"Ecclesiastes tell us, "Man no more knows his time than fish taken in the fatal net... or birds trapped in the snare..."

I saw Alex sitting with his parents towards the back, looking around. He seemed nervous, and sad. Sort of empty, with a touch of guilt. Was that how I looked after my parent's died?

"...like these the children of men… caught when the Time falls suddenly upon them. And so before we can heal, before we can escape the presence of Death. Time, we must mourn and celebrate theirs with this memorial."

A couple men who had been stationed by the memorial statue pulled the tarp off and revealed the large Eagle with a plaque beneath it with the names of those that died on the plane. A student with a guitar launched into a song at the microphone as people began to form a line to drop the flowers at the site of the memorial statue. I dropped my flower, idly watching as another survivor exchanged heated words with Alex, while another – I think, Billy – asked him questions about his future like he was psychic.

I stayed out of the fray, while he and his friend talked quietly side by side about something serious. I stayed back too when a girl that survived – Clear – talked to him softly. "Because of you... I'm still alive. Thank you."

When she was gone, I quickly made my move. "You're Alex, right?" He eyed me a bit warily, which made sense. I was younger than him. He didn't know me. But he nodded anyway.

"You're the one who had the panic attack and got everyone off the plane," I guessed. He turned even more wary. "I just – I think I know what happened to you. About a month ago, my parents died when a bridge collapsed under them. I knew it was gonna happen, but I couldn't tell them in time. I met someone who died on flight 180, your flight. I knew that was gonna happen too, just not when or where or anything. I don't know why – I don't know how. All I know is how I feel. And I just feel like it's not over for you and your friends. Please be careful." He didn't say anything as I left him standing there. I think he was just taken aback that I wasn't angry with him, or thought him crazy, like most of the others seemed to. I made my way to stand with Uncle Tommy again and focused on the rest of the service.

"We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast... But when we say this, we imagine that the hour is placed in an obscure and distant future. It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon. This afternoon... which is so certain... and which has every hour filled in advance."

* * *

I honestly wasn't shocked when I saw the boy who'd made the last eulogy at the service that morning had died by that night. What I was shocked at was seeing a man I'd seen before taking the body away. Bludworth – he'd been a coroner and paid his respects at the service for North Bay Bridge. I also had a hard time believing that people actually believed Todd had hung himself in a bathtub. I hoped others would be okay. I hoped Alex figured out what was happening. It didn't look like I would.

I knew if Uncle Tommy knew I was taking his civilian vehicle on my own – I only had a driver's permit – I'd be grounded for a month, but I was desperate. It wasn't hard to find the man. He now had a business with his name on it. After memorizing the directions, I headed right there. I knocked before I walked in, somehow finding myself down some dark hallway to a cold basement like area, where he was standing next to a slab table with a sheet covered body on it. I knew it was Todd. But I still asked.

"That's Todd, isn't it?" I asked him, somehow knowing that he wouldn't scold me for sneaking in so late.

"You already know the answer," he said. "Miss Burke, isn't it?"

"Let's go with Mara," I told him.

"Then I insist you call me William," he told me with a wide smile.

I nodded. "The news said Todd killed himself. I don't believe that. Death got him. Not suicide. There's a difference."

He gave me a chilling smile. "You'll learn quickly. In Death... there are no accidents. No coincidences. No mishaps. And no... escapes. Suicide. Murder. Plane crash. What does it matter? He was going to end someday."

"Someday didn't have to be today," I retorted. "But it's not just him, is it? It's gonna be Alex, and that girl, Clear, and everyone else who got off that plane. It's just like North Bay."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he said. But I could tell by his cool face that he probably understood exactly what I meant and more than I did.

In my hands I was carrying a folder of printed research I'd been doing since I found out about Flight 180. I found an empty table to work with and wheeled it over to him, so he'd see what I was laying out. I opened the folder and pulled out the first picture of a short pretty girl with brown hair. "Candice Hooper. One of the Lucky Eight from the bus that got off North Bay right before it collapsed. The day after the service, she fell on her neck vaulting and died instantly."

I pulled out the next photo of a man with a cocky smile, short hair, slightly chubby face and black glasses. "Isaac Palmer. Went in for a Chinese massage and some acupuncture but got his head crushed by Buddha. He's dead."

I slammed his picture next to Candice's, turned out so Bludworth could see their faces. I pulled out another, of a woman with tan skin and dark hair. "Olivia Castle – went in for laser eye surgery and ended up falling out a window."

Next was a balding man with a spare tire around his gut. "Dennis Lapman got a wrench through his skull."

I held up the photo of Peter, the guy I met with Sam at the service. "This is Peter Friedkin. He tried to kill Molly Harper. In defending her, Sam Lawton skewered him." With that picture down, I let out a frustrated sigh, "Five out of the Lucky Eight dead within days of narrowly escaping tragic death, all in freak accidents. They only survived the first time because Sam Lawton got them off that bridge. He knew. I know he knew because _I_ knew. But I couldn't do anything about it to save anyone, and he could. And after Peter, it seemed to be over. But I knew. I knew all along that even Sam and his girlfriend wouldn't be safe. I met him at the service, and I had a panic attack because I saw a plane exploding. Within weeks, Flight 180 explodes after taking off and Sam and his girlfriend, Molly, were on board. Debris from the flight fell and crushed Nathan Sears. The last of the Lucky Eight – all dead."

I slammed down the photos of Sam and Molly on the table next to the rest of their dead friends, letting Bludworth stare at them for a moment.

I leaned my hands on the table and let out a forlorn sigh. "Now Todd is dead. And let's call it what it is – suspicious. Alex had a panic attack about the plan exploding, got him and others booted off before it did just that. Todd's just the first of the survivors to go. They're all gonna die, aren't they? Death is coming for all of them."

In the most honest and straightforward move I'd seen from him so far, he slowly inclined his head. "Every single move we make, from the mundane to the monumental... the red light we stop at, or run; the route we take to work or don't; the airplane we ride, or walk out of... is all a part of Death's sadistic design leading to the grave."

"Death doesn't like being cheated," I whispered. "These people escaped North Bay, and Flight 180, but all it did was put off the inevitable."

"Unfortunately, I believe you'll come to understand Death's design, Mara Burke," he said in a slow way that made me wonder if somehow, he could see the future too. Did he just see Death? Or did he see more? Before I could ask, he followed up with, "I fear I must be getting on with some of my more… distasteful work. I'm not sure you'll be wanting to watch."

I stared at Todd's body hidden by the sheet and shook my head. "No, I don't think I will. I better get home before my Uncle finds out I took the car anyway."

"Wouldn't want you to get in trouble," he said with a slight mocking smile and gestured to the door. "Goodnight, Mara Burke."

"Goodnight," I whispered shakily before quickly leaving. My hands were still shaking as I drove home, luckily getting there before Uncle Tommy did. I didn't rest easy that night.

* * *

It was a bit surreal when I saw news of two more deaths. Two more survivors taken by Death. Terry Chaney got hit by a bus and the teacher, Valerie Lewton, was killed in a bizarre house fire. Only, authorities seemed to think Alex had something to do with it, seeing as he was wanted.

The whole day the next day, I couldn't seem to get warm. I wrapped myself up in fleece leggings, thick socks, a sweatshirt. But I still shivered walking about the small house Tommy and I shared now. It was June 25, 2000. A date I wouldn't soon forget.

I woke up early, and I felt like Death. Like it was sitting on my chest or something. It was sort of hard to breathe. But I knew it wasn't asthma or something like that. It was Death, telling me it was coming.

Uncle Tommy was gonna have a late shift tonight, so he was still sleeping as I puttered around the house. I tried to make French Toast in the kitchen. Something hot to eat. But even right out of the pan, it tasted cold in my mouth. I almost wished I had school to distract me. Distract me from all the deaths that had already happened – including my parents. Distract me from all of the death I knew was coming. Distract me from everything Bludworth and I had talked about the other night.

But that cold feeling nibbled at my spine, the hair at the back of my neck. It crawled over my skin as the day passed slowly. When I saw Uncle Tommy come down in his uniform, and said Frank was waiting, the cold felt like hot pokers sticking into my joints. And then I heard what sounded like a gunshot off to my side. I let out a scream and turned to the sound. But I only saw our closed front door.

"Mara!?" I heard Tommy's voice call out. "What's wrong!?"

"Don't go!" I suddenly begged.

His eyes widened at my risen voice and panicked look. "What? Why?"

"You're gonna get yourself shot, that's why!" I told him. "I know it! Like North Bay and Flight 180. I can't lose you too!"

"And you won't," he tried to reassure me. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "I'm a cop, Mar. It's inherently a dangerous job. And I know we've both been through it enough losing your mom and dad. But I swear that I'm here for you and I'm not going anywhere. I won't let anything happen to me, or you. Got it?"

"Tommy, please," I begged more. "Just call in sick or something."

Seeing that I wasn't going to let go of my panic, he sighed and brought me into his arms. I didn't let myself relax, breathing slightly faster in my desperation to convince him to stay home. To stay safe.

But I should have known it was a lost cause. He insisted he was fine. He promised me he'd be home at the end of his shift. Asked me to get some sleep – I looked like I needed it.

But of course, I didn't sleep a wink. I choked down the lump frozen in my throat, paced the living room. I watched the news, sitcom reruns, infomercials. It didn't help. Eventually I caught the news of Billy Hitchcock dying out by the train. I couldn't understand the details of how he died or why he was out there to begin with. I just knew that yet another survivor from Flight 180 had now been claimed by Death.

Eventually exhaustion caught up with me and I passed out on the couch. I didn't know what time it was when Uncle Tommy was gently shaking me awake and whispering my name, "Mara, wake up. You'll mess up your neck."

"Tommy!" I exclaimed when I woke up. I threw my arms around him, "Oh god, thank god, I thought you were going to die tonight!"

"Mara, I gotta tell you something," he said in his serious cop voice.

The ice in my veins that had melted into water before now froze again. "What?"

"Um, we got a call on the scanner about a train wreck…" he started solemnly.

"Billy Hitchcock," I said, knowing. "Another Flight 180."

"Yeah, Frank told me to go ahead and take care of it," he explained. "But, um, he got involved in a shootout. He, uh, didn't make it, Mara."

"What?" I whispered. "But… I didn't feel that he was gonna die, I felt that you were going to die."

"If that call had been ten seconds later, I would have," he said. "I'm…"

"I didn't know about Frank," I muttered. "I should have known about Frank, before…"

I could tell that Tommy was struggling with his partner's death as much as I was struggling with my guilt. But he still comforted me. "It's not your fault, Mar. It's the hazard of the job. Frank – he was a good cop."

I couldn't sleep again after that. Neither could Tommy. We stayed up watching comedies and talking about Frank. Tommy talked about helping Frank's wife with the funeral arrangements and taking care of his desk at the station. I talked about the kind of flowers they should order and what kind of food Frank would want. He would never forgive us if they didn't include good beer on the menu.

Eventually we both passed out on the couch. We were so caught up with the aftermath of Frank's death and planning his memorial with Carol, that I hadn't realized I didn't see news of anymore Flight 180 deaths until none other than Alex Browning bumped into me with Clear Rivers at a coffee shop.

"It's you," he said when he recognized me. "You were at the memorial service for our class. You believed me about knowing the plane would explode."

"I'm Mara," I said, realizing I'd never given him my name. "I'm sorry about Todd. And the rest of your friends."

"At least it's over," Alex said with an optimistic smile. "We beat Death."

I didn't know how to respond to that. "Are you… are you sure?"

Alex and Clear were both smiling. "We're sure. We figured out the list, the order, how to interfere. It's over. It's all over."

He and Clear talked me through all that happened. At the train. At Clear's house. How Alex got electrocuted saving Clear and paramedics saved his life. He was sure to die, but he survived. Because they beat the list. I wanted to believe them. Maybe that's why I told them that I did. That I was happy they were okay; that they made it. Maybe that's why I ignored the cold feeling in my gut as we said our goodbyes and I caught the bus back to the house.

I should have known better.


	3. Chapter 3: One Year

CHAPTER THREE

ONE YEAR

"Tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary since Velez Air Flight 180 exploded and crashed shortly after takeoff from JFK Airport. It's a disaster that's affected many. None more so than Mt Abraham High School, which lost 40 students and four faculty members in the crash."

I kept my eyes down to my cereal as I ate breakfast and cursed myself for not trusting my own feelings. I should have insisted to Alex that it wasn't over. I'd heard their friend Carter died on their trip to Paris six months ago. I didn't hear anything from them. And then I caught Alex's picture in the paper. He got hit in the head with a brick. Clear checked herself into a mental institution, still hiding from Death. But I just knew someday I'd see her face in an obituary too.

"But it was the events after the crash that has turned this tragic story into something even stranger. The survivors who managed to get off the plane before it crashed died soon thereafter in a series of mysterious and bizarre accidents. Now, to some, these deaths are just tragic coincidences, but to others, they're an indication that there are more sinister events taking place. That's the contention of tonight's guest. Thank you for joining us this evening."

"Thank you for having me. And I appreciate you using the word sinister. Most people say supernatural because they think I'm talking about ghosts and witches and stuff like that."

"Here's your chance to set the record straight."

I didn't remember the guest's name. I didn't even know why I still had the show on. He wasn't going to say anything that I didn't already know, unless he didn't know what he was talking about. I was only glad someone with enough clout to get a tv interview was talking about this.

"Great. Okay. I believe that there's a sort of force, an unseen malevolent presence... that's all around us every day. And it determines when we live and die. And some people call this force the devil, but I think that whole religious thing is... so I prefer to call it Death itself."

"So, I'm surrounded by Death?"

"Absolutely. _Absolutely_. Every day, everywhere, all the time. And that's what I want people to understand... that Death has this grand design that we all fit into. So, when Alex Browning got off that plane and took the other survivors with him, he basically screwed up Death's plan. And that's what I'm trying to warn people about."

I busied myself cleaning out my dish, only half listening. It was like torture being reminded of last year and all the people who died senselessly.

"And the fact that all of the survivors have died is your evidence of this?"

"Well, it's not so much that the survivors died, but it's the way that they died. I mean, there were so many weird, seemingly random things about the way they died. It just didn't make sense. And that's the proof there's something out there..."

"Wait, that's not proof. That is your interpretation of events that can't be proven in order to support your ideas."

"You should be more open-minded..."

"What happened after that was just coincidence."

"May I finish? Mere coincidence would have one or two of these kids die. But not all of them including their teachers."

"Yes, but people die all the time, so why should this be any different?"

"It forced people to question these so-called everyday coincidences. What if they were something more? What if you could do something about it?"

Yeah, what if? What if people could interfere with Death? Save some lives, make a difference. What if they knew ahead of time and could stop it? What if they weren't able to? What if they failed?

"Please, are you listening to yourself? This is crazy. You're saying we should be on guard every morning when we leave the house?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Exactly it. And in order to survive... the only way to survive is to look beneath the visible world. Because in the end no one can escape death. And today may be your day to die."

"Turn that off," Uncle Tommy complained as he came downstairs dressed for his shift as highway patrol.

"Spoilsport," I half-heartedly teased him, but was glad for the excuse to be forced to turn the television to cartoons. I'd rather watch Tom and Jerry pummel each other than think about Death's design today. I was done with all of that shit.

"What do you have today?" he asked as he started a pot of coffee.

"Seeing as it's summer vacation now and you won't let me get a job," I said, "nothing."

He playfully narrowed his eyes at me, "High School is stressful enough without a job on top of all your work and activities. We don't need you to have a job, so I'm happy to have you focus on school and figuring out what you want to do with your life free of the extra stress."

"What about the stress of my guardian and only family left having a dangerous job that gives me a heart attack every month or so?" I said, giving him a smirk.

He rolled his eyes as he poured a cup of coffee for himself while I put some bread in the toaster for him. I also stuffed an apple into his bag. "I'm on highway patrol today. Just up and down Route 23, handing out tickets to dumb speed demons."

"Do you know what could happen to you on the freeway?" I asked him as I grabbed a bottle of water and butter from the fridge. "Someone's tire could blow out and cause them to swerve into you. Someone could be driving drunk or stoned. You could hit black ice!"

"In May?" he pointed out.

"Okay, so maybe not black ice," I huffed. "The point is, anything can happen."

"Look, I believe you," he told me. "After everything that happened with Flight 180 and Frank. Even with your mom and dad. But it's been a year."

"Today, exactly," I interjected, buttering his toast for him when it popped out of the toaster.

"And I'm still here," he told me. "You haven't gotten another cold feeling with me, have you?"

"Just my usual paranoia," I admitted. I hadn't had another panic attack like Flight 180 either. I just hoped that the worst was over. "Okay, okay. Just be careful. Don't drive distracted. Keep your eyes on the road."

"Yes, Mar," he said dutifully eating his breakfast. I walked him out to his car and reminded him about the apple I put in his bag. I told him to be careful again before he drove off.

When I got back into our apartment, I got dressed in real clothes instead of my pajamas. I did have some summer AP work to do so I busied myself with that. But spontaneously, the television turned onto the news.

"Route 23 was backed up for almost nine hours today when a record-breaking pile up... killed an estimated 27 people. Emergency crews spent hours sifting through the wreckage...hoping to recover any survivors from this tragic collision."

That dreadful feeling washed over me just like the morning my parents died. When I saw the time on the news report, I knew the exact same thing was happening. Uncle Tommy said he'd be working on Route 23 today. Why hadn't I got a feeling from him earlier? Why did it always have to happen late? This time, I wasn't going to sit there.

I dialed his cell phone as I shoved my feet into my sneakers but of course he didn't answer. I wasn't about to have a repeat of my parents' deaths though. I grabbed my keys from the hook in the kitchen. The one with Frank's lucky poker chip key chain on them – the keys to his motorcycle he willed to me. I knew it would be my luck to get stuck in the elevator, so I raced down the stairs to where the bike was, helmet still hanging on the handle. I stuck it on my head and started the engine, racing out of the apartment garage towards Route 23. I barely heard the radio blaring – I hadn't even turned it on.

"A candlelight vigil to mark the one-year anniversary of the crash of Flight 180 will be held at 8:00 P.M. Tonight at the Mt Abraham high school auditorium."

I weaved through cars, ignoring honks and curses. I even drove on the shoulder for a bit until I finally got to the on-ramp I knew Tommy would be using. I could see a line of cars honking at a green light as there was easy traffic on the freeway. There was a red SUV blocking the way though. And I saw Uncle Tommy out there talking to a frantic looking girl just outside. I quickly drove on the grass and stopped on the midpoint, parking the bike and yanking off my helmet. "Uncle Tommy!"

He looked frustrated to see me. "Mara Burke, you stay by the bike!"

"There's gonna be an accident!" I screamed, still jogging up. But I stopped by his cruiser.

"She's right," the crying girl yelled. She paused, as I did, when a large log truck drove by the onramp. She grew frantic, grabbing Tom's arm and pointing to the truck, "THAT's the truck that's going to kill everyone!"

"Alright miss, calm down. I just need this lane open. I need you to pull your vehicle onto the shoulder!" Tommy insisted.

"You're not listening to me! You have to do something!"

Sudden sounds of crashing and explosions and cars screeching. Everyone's attention was brought to overturned cars and fire. It looked like the chains holding the logs on the truck had broken and they just went flying out behind them, causing a huge pileup. The hysterical girl screamed in fright. Everyone else seemed just as horrified. And Tommy and I shared a look – we both knew it was happening again.

Uncle Tommy ran back to his patrol car and grabbed his radio headset, barking into it, "L.A. 51, I need assistance and requesting paramedics for a major T.A. At –"

As he spoke, I felt a strong breeze brush my hair and felt that something was about to happen. I looked behind us and saw a large truck careening down the freeway. I knew it was about to hit the woman and her friends in the SUV. I shoved Tommy to get his attention and he looked down to see what I saw as I screamed shrilly, "WATCH OUT!"

Tommy raced over and yanked back the girl just as the truck plowed into the SUV. Metal debris of the vehicles missed them by inches. And the girl started hysterically sobbing in Tommy's arms as her friends died horribly as she watched.

* * *

I wasn't allowed to take the motorcycle home since I'd broken Uncle Tommy's rule to wait until I was eighteen to take it out on my own. So, he was making me wait while he took statements, which now he had to take mine as well since I witnessed the pileup and Kimberley's freak-out. That was her name, the girl who knew the pileup would happen. Kimberley Corman. She was a college student. She didn't talk much. I was afraid she was still in shock.

A couple others wouldn't shut up though. There was a teacher – who also rode a motorcycle – named Eugene, that kept complaining about being late to the High School he taught at and his kids would tear up his classroom without him there to supervise. A high-strung career woman named Kat kept jumping between business talk on her cell phone and lamenting that she couldn't smoke a cigarette in the room with us. There was a chill dude sitting with his feet up on the table. He told me his name was Rory when he initially tried to flirt with me. But then I told him I was underage and now he couldn't look me in the eye from across the table.

I made some small talk with a mother and son, Nora and Tim. They'd been on their way to a dentist appointment.

"Now we'll have to reschedule for tomorrow. At least we can," Nora said with a weak smile. "Those poor people… If…"

I had a feeling where she was going but she was cut off when Uncle Tommy walked into the room. He was swarmed by Eugene and Kat, wondering how much longer they were gonna be here, they had places they needed to be. But he did his best to brush them off and sat in the empty chair on Kimberley's other side.

"Listen, I know you've gone over all this with Detective Suby… but would you mind telling me what happened?"

She finally spoke. But her voice was weak and scared, and she couldn't really meet his eyes. "It was like I was there. I knew something bad was going to happen even before it did. I just felt wrong, just like..."

"Just like what?" Uncle Tommy asked, and we shared a look around her. Just like me?

She looked up, around the room. "Look, I know this sounds crazy but... you guys all heard about Flight 180, right? The kid who got off the plane? Well, it happened a year ago, today. My premonition was just like his."

"What are you talking about?" Nora asked, quietly.

Eugene was leaning in the corner and scoffed with a smirk on his face. "Come on. You must have read about the kid who had a dream about a plane blowing up, so he got all his buddies off the plane and then the thing blew up just like in his dream?"

"Yeah," Nora nodded slowly.

"But did you hear what happened after?" he asked. She shook her head, both her and her son confused. "So, a month goes by, right? Everything seems cool. But then all the survivors start to die one by one. 'Cause when your number's up, your number's up, right?" He shared a look with Rory like they knew the deeper meaning to what was going on. "You know, some people even say that Death itself was stalking them, hunting each one down until they were all... dead."

"Would you shut up?" I snapped. He didn't understand what was really happening, how much danger everyone was in. He glared at me like I was being too sensitive. "This isn't a joke. This is real. Alex wasn't crazy, and it wasn't a dream. Kimberley isn't crazy either. And besides; there's still one last survivor from Flight 180."

"She's right," Uncle Tommy said calmly. "Clear Rivers is in a padded room at the Stonybrook Institution."

"Well, that's encouraging," Rory grunted.

"Okay, you want me to believe that this is true, that this is happening all over again?" Kimberley asked, pointing her question to me.

"If you were never meant to pull over, you all should have died in that pileup," I insisted.

"Which means Death could be coming for us," Tim said, with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Yeah, like, what if we're all getting that 'Different Strokes' curse or something?" Rory asked the room.

"I think you're all are certifiable," Nora chided. "I can't believe I've been listening to this crap. Let's go." She stood up and grabbed her son's hand, pulling him to the door. "Let's go, Tim."

"Mrs. Carpenter, please," my Uncle stood, trying to get her to stay. But the others slowly collected their things to start leaving too. And then Tommy's boss, Suby, walked in, along with another older man who raced in for Kimberley.

"Kimberly!" She ran to hug him, and he worried over her. He must be her father. "Oh baby! Are you okay?"

"I'm so sorry," I heard her whisper.

"Shh, shh."

"You can all go now," Suby excused everyone. "Thank you for your patience."

Once they were gone, I turned to Tommy, "Uncle Tommy, we can't just let them leave."

"We can't make them stay," he told me.

"You know they're not safe," I insisted, eyes filling with tears. "_You_ are not safe. If Kimberley hadn't had whatever premonition she had, you'd be dead."

"But I'm not," he said. "And I'm not gonna give up."

"So what?" I scoffed. "We saw what happened with North Bay and Flight 180. You'll either fail and die, or you'll get a nice little padded room next to Clear's. And I'll have to just watch it all happen. I was never meant to be out there today."

"Yeah, don't think you're not grounded for taking the bike, by the way," he pointed out. "We had a deal."

"I saw the pileup, and I had to warn you." I sighed. "Can we go home?"

He sighed too. "I've got a lot of paperwork to do. Why don't you try to rest on the couch in the break room? I think Sully's got books in the cupboard if you get bored."

I rolled my eyes, "She's been reading romance novels for like four months. Gross."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear you say something like that," he joked, walking me out of the interview room and towards the break room. He stole a blanket from the office manager and set me up on the couch in the break room after making some bad coffee. I curled up on the couch and promised to try to relax as he kissed my forehead and went to his desk, in sight.

It was getting late and I was finally bored enough to read one of Sully's novels with Fabio on the cover. But it was so uninteresting that I tossed it away and started flicking through channels. Without my permission, the television landed on the news.

"To recap our top story, Route 23 was backed up for almost nine hours today. A record-breaking pileup killed an estimated 18 people. Emergency crews spent hours sifting through the wreckage hoping to recover any survivors from this tragic collision. So far police are refusing to release the names of the victims until the families are notified."

I shivered as I heard the words from this morning repeated. It was the same news story I saw before. It was happening just like North Bay.

"The camera of a highway patrol car managed to catch this shocking footage. A semi comes... and smashes into a red SUV. The driver of the SUV was standing outside the vehicle and the officer pulled her back at the last second just as the semi ploughed into the vehicle. The passengers inside the SUV..."

I muted it and shut my eyes at the replayed footage of Uncle Tommy pulling Kimberley back just as the large truck killed her friends. I hadn't even unmuted it when I heard the other anchor start speaking about another story.

"In other news, a freak accident took the life of a lotto winner. Friends say Evan Lewis was on top of the world after recently winning $250,000. But in tragic turn of events, Lewis died today

while trying to escape a fire in his apartment."

I blanched at the photo of the blonde man I'd seen this morning at the Route 23 on-ramp. I kept my eyes on the TV as I opened the break room door and called into the practically deserted station. "Uncle Tommy, come see this!"

"What?" he mumbled as he came to stand in the doorway. I just pointed to the TV.

"He managed to make it out of the building, but somehow the ladder on the fire escape slipped and impaled him. Investigators believe Lewis died instantly."

"It's already started," I whispered in dread.

"I need to tell Kimberley," Uncle Tommy said, rushing back to his desk and picking up the phone. But when he got through, he got her father, who said she was sleeping.

"We need to warn everyone," I told him.

"I know, we will," he assured me. "Are you getting anything?"

"Nothing helpful," I sighed. "All I know is that sitting in that room will all of you earlier today felt like standing in a graveyard."

"Well," he sighed, "that's not good."

"This is serious, Tommy," I insisted. "This time it's _your_ name on Death's list."

"I know," he admitted, sinking into his chair. "I know, and this is scary. But I'm not gonna give up. And no matter what – you'll be okay. You were never out on Route 23; you were never meant to die."

"So what?" I asked. "I get to live, but watch you die? That doesn't comfort me."

"Look, I know this is scary," he repeated, reaching across his desk to take my hand. "But the most important thing to me is that you are okay. After Frank died, I took care of my affairs. You get everything; your parents' house, the savings, my pension. And I named Sully your legal guardian to keep you out of the system – should something happen to me before you turn eighteen."

"I don't want to talk about this, Tommy," I said, swallowing heavily. "You're not gonna die."

"I don't plan on it either," he said. "But everything you'd need – should something happen – is in my desk at home. Legal papers, bank account, keys. It's all there for you."

"You're there for me," I insisted. "That's all I want."


	4. Chapter 4: Freezing Hot

CHAPTER FOUR

FREEZING HOT

By morning, every survivor left had called Tom and it was decided that they would meet us at our house to figure out a plan to stay safe. The only person missing was Kimberley. So, we decided to drive over to her house.

It didn't seem like anyone was home when we got there, but Kimberley hadn't answered the phone and we were determined to make sure she was safe. "She has to be last on the list now. You saved her from that truck that killed her friends. You intervened."

"Doesn't mean she's safe," he said.

Finally, she pulled up in a bug and seemed surprised to see us. She looked at me first, "You're Mara, right? You're the one who knew what I was talking about yesterday."

I nodded.

"We tried calling you last night, but your father said you were sleeping," Tommy said.

"Evan Lewis is dead," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah. I've been getting calls all morning from everyone who was on the on-ramp. We're meeting tonight at my apartment."

She seemed confused. "Wait, so... you believe all this Death stuff?"

Tommy and I shared a look. "Well, at first, no, I didn't. Until last year when… let's just say my eyes were opened."

She frowned and went to respond but something in the window behind us caught her eye and made her gasp and duck. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Tommy asked.

"Pigeons," she said.

"Pigeons?"

I looked behind her and saw clear sky. "It must be a sign."

"If Clear's right about the order, then Nora and Tim are going to be attacked by pigeons," Kimberley agreed.

"You saw Clear?" I questioned her.

"Wait, I'm not following well," Tommy admitted.

"They're next on Death's list. If we don't find them, they're going to die," Kimberley insisted.

"Aren't they going back to the dentist today?" I asked.

"Let's go," Tommy said. We all piled into Tommy's car and started racing to town.

Kimberley got on the phone to find out where their dentist was.

"Okay, great, thanks. Alright, turn around. The cleaning lady said they're at the Ellis Medical Complex off of 14th."

"Hurry, Tommy!"

The center was busy, and Tommy parked haphazardly on the street. There was some kind of construction going on. A crane was carrying a large pane of glass for a window up in the air for the tall building. Outside Ellis was a flock of pigeons grazing on the ground. The three of us were racing towards the entrance as we saw Nora and Tim walking out.

"Nora! The pigeons!" Kimberley yelled.

I couldn't hear anything they said from the other side of the courtyard. But they looked confused. But Tim heard pigeons, saw the pigeons, and decided to run into them and startle them into flying away.

"No, Tim, stop!" I screamed as we got barely any closer.

"Hey, whoa, whoa! Kid, kid!" the crane operator yelled from his seat.

It all happened so fast. The glass the crane was carrying got knocked off somehow and went plummeting for Tim.

"No-oo! Tim!"

"Look out!"

The boy barely had time to look up before the horizontal glass fell right on him and flattened him to the ground.

"Stay back, stay back!"

"No! Please, no!" Nora screamed as one of the construction workers held her back. Tommy was holding Kimberley back the same way as she cried out. I was just stood there, frozen. Again, I was forced to witness a horrific death, unable to stop it.

I burrowed myself into the backseat of Tommy's car as the police and ambulance arrived to clear the scene and take Tim away. Kimberley was leaning against the front door. I could hear her and Tommy talking as they wheeled Tim into the back of the ambulance.

"Nora's not coming. She won't leave her son."

"No, but she's next..."

"Right now, I don't think she cares."

I tried to keep my eyes closed and not pay attention. But every time I did, I saw Tim being flattened by that windowpane. We were all silent until Tommy pulled into Kimberley's driveway.

"This is really happening again, isn't it?" she whispered. "I hoped we'd get there, and they'd be fine, and Clear Rivers was just full of shit, and Evan Lewis' death was just some freak accident. But we're all going to die, aren't we? I'm so scared."

"I know you didn't ask for any of this..." Tom told her, "but I don't think you have it in you to quit either."

I was startled when someone appeared at the passenger window but was relieved to see Clear.

Kimberley rolled down her window, "A second one just died. A 15-year-old kid."

"I hope you're ready for this," Clear sighed. She got into the back with me, greeting me tensely, "Hi Mara."

"Hi Clear," I whispered. "I'm sorry about Alex."

"Me too," she sighed before giving Tommy directions to a place I'd hope I'd never have to go to again. Bludworth's place of business.

* * *

"It's this way," Clear said, taking the lead to the basement entrance at the side of the building.

"How is this guy going to help us anyway?" Tom asked.

"He seemed to know a hell of a lot more about Death than he ever told us," Clear said, sounding bitter as she went to open the door.

"Shouldn't we knock first?"

She gave him a look, "He probably already knows we're coming."

I shivered at the chill of the basement, hearing water dripping as we walked through the dark tunnel to the room with the furnace. There was another doorway at the back of the room, with a clearing mist. Clear approached the mist, when suddenly a metal table with a dead body on it started wheeling in, following by William Bludworth.

"Hello, Clear," he greeted jovially. "I've been expecting you." He then smiled widely to me, "And nice to see you again, Mara Burke."

"I wish the circumstances were better, William," I responded meekly.

My Uncle looked between us suspiciously, "Wait – when did you two meet?" He then gasped when he saw the body on the table, and it distracted him from his question. "That's Evan Lewis."

"Come to pick my brain?" William said as he aimed Evan's body for the furnace shoot.

"Just a simple question and we'll leave you alone with your new friend," Clear said sarcastically.

He took a deep breath and looked at Kimberley, "Dead... yet still fresh."

Kimberley looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"Look, we drove a long way to get here, so if you happen to know how to stop Death, it would be really great if you told us," Clear interjected.

He gave her a look, "You can't cheat Death. There are no escapes."

"Bullshit," she cursed. "You told me Death has a distinct design. But Alex and I cheated Death, not once but dozens of times. The design is flawed, it can be beaten."

He grinned at her, clamping a tool around the hoop in Evan's nipple. "Such fire in you now. People are always most alive just before they die. Don't you think?"

I flinched as he ripped out the jewelry and wheeled Evan's body into the fire. I didn't want to say a word. I knew what he would say. But I found myself not being able to help it. "It's human nature. Survival, self-preservation. We have to fight this."

"I understand, little Mara," he told me kindly. He went to leave, not bothering to say anything to excuse himself.

But Kimberley grabbed his arm, begging, "Look, please... if you know of anything that could help us, what harm could it do?"

He turned back to us, pursing his lips as he pondered her plea. "Only new life can defeat Death."

"What the hell does that mean?" Tom asked.

"Some people say there's a balance to everything," he explained. "For every life there's a death, and for every death there is a life. But the introduction of life that was not meant to be, that can invalidate the list, force Death to start anew." He turned to Kimberley with a smile, "You have to follow the signs... Kimberly."

She frowned at him, "How do you know my name?"

He only smiled and turned to leave.

"Don't bother asking," I told her. "Let's go."

* * *

I stuck close to Tom's side at the gas station when we had to fill up. I watched as Clear suspiciously eyed everything around her, keeping her hand steady over the emergency shut-off valve. Uncle Tom was still struggling with the stuff Bludworth had told us.

"Wait a second. 'New life defeats death'? 'Follow the signs'? Where did you find that guy?" he asked Clear. And gave me a look, "And when did you meet him?"

"Not important," I said. "I'll tell you when you all survive."

"I thought he was supposed to help us, not freak us out," Kimberley said as she returned from the quickie mart.

Clear didn't really seemed to be listening as she eyed some of the skateboarding hoodlums walking by us. One of them was starting to light up their cigarette. Before I could say anything, Clear reached up and smacked the kid upside the head. "What the fuck are you thinking?!"

He put his lighter away and gave her attitude. "I'm thinking suck on my junk, bee-atch."

"She's not in the mood for a tic tac," I quipped. "Get lost!"

His friends 'oohd' and gave their friend trouble for my comment as they walked away.

"Little punk," Clear scoffed as she turned back to us.

Kimberley abruptly started gasping and clutching her throat, coughing like she couldn't take in air. Her shoulder bumped into mine and I caught her, leaning her against the back of the car. "Kimberley, what is it?"

Like coming out a vision – I could recognize the signs now – she gasped sharply and started breathing again.

"What is it? What did you see?" Tom asked her.

"You have to tell us, what did you see?" Clear demanded, peering down at her. But Kimberley was still a little disoriented. "Kimberly, look at me! You have to tell us. What did you see?!"

"I was driving a white van. I don't know, I must have lost control, because I crashed into a lake. And I drowned," she said between deep breaths.

"Like a sign or premonition?" I asked her.

"I can practically taste the water in my mouth," she gagged.

"Wait, remember, the on-ramp?" Tommy asked me and Kimberley. "There was a pregnant woman in a white delivery van."

Clear seemed the most excited I'd ever seen her, "He said only new life can defeat death. If she gives birth to a baby that would've died in that car crash... a brand-new soul that was never part of Death's design..."

"It throws the whole list out of whack and we start over with a clean slate," Kimberley caught on, just as excited.

"It seems like a reach, don't you think?" Tommy said, a bit skeptical.

"But that's what he said, Tommy," I said. "What else could he have been talking about?"

"We have to find the pregnant lady's number," Kimberley said.

"I don't have it. She never came to the station," he told us.

"We have to warn her about the lake so she can stay alive to have the baby," Clear insisted.

"That'll be an easy conversation to have," he quipped.

"It doesn't matter if it's easy or if we have to kidnap her," I said. "She needs to have that baby, so you don't die too."

Uncle Tommy softened at my words and brushed my hair back, giving my forehead a kiss. "Okay."

"But how are we gonna find her?" Clear asked. "There could be thousands of white vans in the state."

Tommy gave them a smile, "Hey! I'm a cop, remember?"

* * *

We went to the station to review Tom's patrol footage for the van on the onramp and got her plate number. He put out an APB on her and then we went back to our apartment to meet the others. Kat was the first to arrive. Amped up 11 and talking a mile a minute. I set her up on the couch and reminded her that this was a no-smoking residence. Nora came too, look ashen and broken hearted. I sat her next to Kat and gave her some tea to help calm her down, after giving her my condolences as well. Eugene came and close behind him was Rory. Clear and I were making tea first, and then she and Kimberley walked them through what was going on.

Everyone seemed skeptical at first. Nora was still mourning her son and didn't really react. Kat was shaking. Rory seemed out of it too – for other reasons. Eugene seemed indignant and couldn't help but make some smart-ass comment as he looked between me and Kimberley. "And we're just supposed to go along with this because you and jailbait say so?"

I cringed, "Ew, I'm not dating Tommy, I'm his _niece_, sicko."

Clear quickly snapped at him too and wrangled the conversation back to the more important matters in hand.

I stood in the kitchen with Tom while he was on the phone. I double checked that the gas wasn't on and the fridge was all the way closed, and the knives were taped up and put away as well. I was wrapped in a wool sweater. I couldn't seem to get warm.

"Hey, man, how you doing? Listen, any word on that white van yet? Okay, keep checking." As he hung up his phone, he turned to me. "How are you feeling?"

I shivered lightly, "Freezing."

"I turned the heat up already," he said, frowning.

I gave him a look, "That's not what I mean."

"If what you're saying is true, that means I'm next," I heard Nora say.

But of course, there were always skeptics. Eugene was the one of this group, scoffing in the corner. "This is crazy, people, come on. First Death is stalking us, and now premonitions?"

"You're not next, Nora," Clear told the bereaved mother, ignoring the teacher. "Nobody has to be next. That's the point. We need to help each other in order to get through this."

"This cannot be happening," Kat muttered nervously. "See, because my career is at a peak and I finally met a quality guy. I just bought a house."

"Maybe if you shut the fuck up, you'll live," Rory sniped.

She gave him a dirty look. "Like I'm going to take advice from you."

"Okay, look, if you know what to look for, you have a fighting chance," Kimberley called attention, standing up. She started handing out the burner phones we picked up on the way over from the station. "If I call and say, I don't know... subway... Get to a high-rise fast." Rory seemed to only be confused. "A place where no subway could ever possibly go. Get it?"

"Okay, you guys, listen... just because Kimberly has these visions, it doesn't mean we're not all capable of seeing signs to some extent," Clear told them.

"Okay, okay, look. I gotta call bullshit," Eugene piped up again. "I mean, I've sat here and listened to all your theories and all your stories, and I think it's just all bullshit." He started to storm out, fully checked out of the conversation.

"Call it what you want!" Clear called after him sarcastically. "It'll keep your ass alive."

"Darlin', my ass is alive!" he shot back at her from behind the couch. "Has been all day. There is nobody after us but you, trying to make us all crazy." He grabbed his jacket and keys, but the little pool ball keychain popped off and rolled across the floor into the mousetrap we had set out a few days ago. The mousetrap propelled the ball in the air until it hit the rig that held the canoe up.

I screamed, "Clear, look out!" as the canoe swung down.

She ducked just in time and the canoe struck through the window, swinging back. She and tommy caught it and she muttered, "I should have seen that coming."

"Yeah. If Death is out to get you, why don't you get the hell away from us?" Eugene asked her with attitude.

"She's the only one that's dealt with this before," Kimberley argued.

"Eugene, you aren't helping anyone," I scowled, folding my arms tightly as I started shivering again.

"We need to look out for each other from now on," Clear said. "Sleep in shifts. We need to safe-proof this death-trap."

We spent the better part of a couple of hours emptying out all the drawers and cabinets. Tom got his old babyproofing stuff from when I was a toddler for everything with corners. Kimberley taped a pillow to the break in the window from the canoe. I was shutting off the water and gas.

Kat was trying to tape up the electrical sockets when she let out a frustrated sigh. "Screw this. I'm going for a smoke."

"No, no, no, it's not safe out there," Tom argued with her.

"So, Nora's got to bite it before me anyhow, huh?" she said. Tom and I gave her deadpan looks. "Oh, you people have no sense of humor." She struggled to get out her pack of smokes as she walked out of the apartment.

"It's going to be a long night," I sighed. Uncle Tommy gave me a pat on the shoulder as he moved onto the bathroom.

"Nora, you okay?" I heard Kimberley say. I looked over to see the bereaved woman standing from the couch with her purse clutched to her body.

"Four years ago, my husband died. Now Tim. There's nothing left for me," she said quietly, resigned.

"Don't say that, okay?" Kimberley pleaded with her.

"If it is my time to go and be in heaven... with my family, I can accept that," she responded with a shaking quality in her voice. I could tell today had really taken its toll on her. I had lost my parents. I couldn't imagine what she must feel losing a spouse and child.

"You got to trust me. We can fight this. If we just stick together long enough for her to have her baby..." Kimberley continued but Nora seemed set on her decision.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a funeral to plan," she said, walking past Kimberley for the exit.

"Nora." Kimberley and I shared a forlorn look when we noticed Eugene putting down his bucket of items and stringing on his jacket. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm finished. I'm out," he said.

"Leaving is the worst thing you could do right now," I rebutted from the kitchen.

"Look, look. I control my life, alright?" he told us. "Not some crazy list that Death has put together."

"I'll be sure to carve that into your tombstone," Clear said bitterly as she came downstairs.

"Whatever. You may be able to scare these people, I'm not buying that shit," he glared at her as he took his leave. I started to follow and saw Tom hand him a phone and ask him to give it to Nora, even if he didn't believe. Eugene just grabbed it and walked out.

Tommy looked back to me in time to see a shiver crawl up my back as I tried to rub my arms and get them warm. "Still cold?" he asked me, coming over to hug me to him.

"Freezing," I sighed into his shoulder.

A moment later we heard something fall and we ran over to see a sheepish Rory fallen on the floor with some things falling out of the closet.

"Sorry," he said. While he sat up from the floor, his eyes fell on something and I saw them widen as he murmured, "Whoa. Man with hooks?" Tom and I walked over to him, Kimberley from the other side, and peered at the shadows on the wood forming the figure of a man with a bunch of hooks around him. I looked up to see an old trophy of Tommy's on the top shelf of the closet surrounded by hangars. "Man with hooks. Hey, I think I see a man with hooks. Is that..." Rory asked us, "a sign?"

"Oh my God," Tommy muttered.

"Do you guys see that?" Rory asked us loudly.

"Nora," I said. "It's Nora!"

"He's right," Kimberley said, gesturing to Tommy. "The phone."

Clear had seen as well and raced out to see if she could catch Nora before something happened to her.

Tom quickly picked up his phone and called the one Eugene was supposed to give Nora. "Nora! Nora! Can you hear me?!—A man with hooks is going to kill you." He repeated it a few times before his connection to her went dead. "I think she heard me."

"Let's hope so," I breathed, folding my arms around my torso. My teeth were starting to chatter together.

We all sort of jumped when Tom's cell phone rang again. He picked it up and looked at me, "It's Davis," as he answered. "Hey man, find anything?—Really? Are you sure?—Okay, where are you keeping—I got it, thanks." He hung up and looked at us, "They found the van. Isabella's being held at the Greenwood Lake sheriff's station."

"I'm in control of my life! Kiss my ass!" we heard Eugene shouting as he barged back into the apartment, looking wild. He was slightly sweaty, and panting, and looked really shaken up.

"Eugene, what is it?" Tom asked.

"I control my life!" he yelled, storming through the three of us to the other side of the living room, pacing like a caged animal.

"What happened, Eugene?"

"You hear me, you Reaper cocksucker?!" he yelled to the ceiling.

"Calm down," Kimberley pleaded.

"What happened? Where's Nora?" Tom asked.

Eugene was growing increasingly agitated and worked up and it started to feel stuffy and warm in the apartment. I wasn't sure what that meant quite yet. Then Eugene swiped Tom's gun from his back holster and held it out, waving it around. "Back the fuck up!"

We all did as he said, holding our hands up. Tom tried to remain calm, "Whoa, whoa, okay!"

"Back the fuck up!"

"Eugene, what's wrong?" Kimberley asked him. "Just tell us what happened."

But he didn't answer her, taking turns pointing the gun at anyone who came closer.

"Alright, give me the gun, Eugene," Tom demanded. "Give me the gun."

"No! Fuck no!" he said, pointing the gun at Tom. My heart was racing, and I could feel sweat dripping down my temple.

"Eugene, you just got to relax, bro', okay?" Rory begged. "You just got to calm down, man."

"Give me the gun. Give me the gun, Eugene!" Tom yelled.

"No, no, no, no!" Eugene cried out as he held the gun to his head.

"Don't do it! Don't do it!" Kimberley begged.

"I ain't going out like that," he said, pressing the muzzle to the skin of his temple.

Thoughts were racing through my head. I felt freezing all night, and then Nora died. Eugene was holding a gun to his head and I was sweating. It wasn't going to work. He wasn't going to die. At least, not yet.

Bravely – stupidly, in other words – I stepped in front of him and yelled over everyone, "Pull the trigger, Eugene!"

"What the fuck? Are you crazy?" Rory shouted behind me.

"Mara, what do you think—" Tom tried to pull me back, but I slipped out of his grasp.

I stared Eugene down. He was still holding the gun to his head, still shaking. "You wanna prove something? Prove it! You're the master of Death, huh? You control your life, and your death. Then go ahead, Eugene. Show us! Pull the trigger!"

He hesitated. I knew he would hesitate when someone was telling him to go ahead and die. In the face of death, he wouldn't be so ready.

"Come on!" I yelled, reaching for him.

It startled him into pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. His breathing quickened as he pulled the trigger again and again and nothing happened. He crumpled, going slack. Giving Tom the opportunity to take the gun out of his hands as Rory kept Eugene from falling to the ground.

"You don't keep it loaded?" Kimberley asked Tom in shock.

Tom shook his head, knocking out the chamber to reveal a full round.

"Maybe they're all duds," Rory suggested.

"Six in a row?" Tom responded. "Never. That's impossible."

"It wasn't his turn to die," we heard Clear say behind us. We all turned to see her, and a shaken Kat walk in with blood on their clothes.

"Can we find the pregnant woman, now, please?" Kat begged.

Kimberley and Tom gave me a look as she asked, "How did you know he wouldn't die?"

I sighed as I stripped off my sweater, down to my tank top. "It got really warm in here."


End file.
